


Every Sort of Mischief

by Pyracantha



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Good Omens Rom Com Event, Hail Hail the Gang's All here - Freeform, Happy Ending, Happy domestic, Human AU, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm not tagging all of them - Freeform, M/M, Some pouting but a very happy ending, jane austen's emma au, this is super fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/pseuds/Pyracantha
Summary: In every small English town there is a someone who knows exactly how everything ought to be. Crowley Brighcliffe is one such someone who thinks he knows exactly how Highbury ought to be run or the Good Omens/Emma human AU that the Good Omens Rom Com Event asked for? Or something like that.beta'd by my long suffering partner @MTBF but ALL mistakes and liberties taken were my own
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 37
Collections: Good Omens Rom Com Event





	Every Sort of Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dedicating this to the ENTIRE Good Omens RomCom Discord with special mentions to @eunysloan, @theantikate, & @writingelizabeth (aka our darling SNEL) for behind the scenes encouragement! It's an honor to be in a collection with you all and I love everyone in this chilis. <3

Crowley Brightcliffe, handsome, clever, rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, has lived nearly 21 years in the world with very little to distress or vex him. He is the younger child of an indulgent father, Lucius Brightcliffe. On the marriage of his sister, he was left to care for his father and the estate in such a way as suited him. His mother’s death had been when he was so young that he was not touched in mourning as an older child might have been. Though he missed her in a dutiful but abstract way, it was really Miss Dagon “Dawn” Filum who had been a most careful and affectionate governess to him and his sister. 

For sixteen years they have lived together, first as caregiver and charge but since his sister’s marriage, more as fast and happy friends. It is this friendship that finally gives sorrow a reason to call in Crowley’s life, for Miss Filum is marrying. Though it is truly a wonderful match for Dawn, for Crowley it is a melancholy day as he says goodbye to his dear friend. 

Dawn looks radiant and her groom looks besotted, as befits any groom on his wedding day. It takes Crowley’s breath away seeing Dawn’s gown as she walks in the morning sunshine towards the group of friends here to celebrate her marriage to Mr. Weston. She looks lovely in her light green dress, the fashionable silk shining like fine fish scales. Crowley laughs to himself, remembering some of his misadventures as a boy. One such episode with a fish in Dawn’s bed comes to his mind as the shining fabric catches his eye. 

He remembers her arrival and his inability to say her given name, Dagon, with his childhood lisp. He had christened her Dawn and so Dawn she has remained to everyone in their home. His delight for her new situation fades a bit as he thinks about how different his life is about to become. He pushes his forlorn thoughts aside to stride forward and meet her as she approaches and grasps her hands. 

“Lovely as ever, Miss Filum” and then he catches himself, “Oh, but no, you are the lovely Mrs. Weston now! And how happy you look!” 

Crowley grins at her widely. An answering grin is on Dawn’s face as she replies. 

“Oh Crowley, I am! I am so very happy!” She glows with love and turns back to look at Mr. Weston, a delighted look on her face. Crowley gives her hands a squeeze. 

“And how glad we all are for you both today.” He smiles tenderly and then lets go of her hands so Dawn can receive congratulations from her gathered friends. 

He hangs back a bit as the assembly continues. His melancholy is interrupted by the vicar, Mr. Elton, appearing rather startlingly at his elbow. Crowley jumps at the movement and Mr. Elton reaches out to steady him. 

“Be not afraid!” he says jokingly. 

Crowley gives him a polite smile. Gabriel Elton is new to Highbury - well, as new as someone only arrived a bit over a year can be - which for this close society might as well have been yesterday. He was a bit on the pompous side but all new society is novelty and Crowley has made sure to make the vicar a welcome part of their community. 

Gabriel is perched close to Crowley’s right shoulder. He looks avaricious, as if Crowley is a sweet he might devour at any moment. 

Crowley doesn’t appear to notice his attitude as he comments.

“It was a lovely service Mr. Elton. I know Dawn & Mr. Weston will be very happy together.” He brightens up and adds, “It was a match well made!” He smiles at Mr. Elton happily.

“Can I get you some cake perhaps?” inquires Mr. Elton, leaning in. 

“Hmm? Oh… No, thank you. I must take father home,” says Crowley distractedly. “He gets so uneasy when we are away for too long, even for such a happy event as this.” 

He doesn’t notice Mr. Elton’s face fall as he turns away to find his father. 

Crowley sees him deep in conversation with Mr. R. P. Tyler about the state of the young people in Highbury. They are all “good, to be certain, but the changes are always so vexing.” Crowley smiles at the familiar complaints. 

Lucius Brightcliffe had been a bold and demanding man. He had fallen out with his own father, Crowley’s never met grandfather, early in life and was all but destroyed socially. Lucius climbed his way back into good society by sheer charm and sound financial management. He is stubborn and likes things just so. Now disruption of any kind is hard on him and Crowley likes to make sure he is comfortable. 

After his wife’s death, Lucius worried excessively about his children. His sister Michael’s marriage to Raphael Knightly the previous year had given rise to a considerable amount of fretting about Crowley and the estate at Hartfield. It always gives Crowley a pang to think of his father’s distress. He is determined today to take heart, ignore his own troubles, and give his father a smiling face to comfort his anxiety. He excuses himself to Mr. Elton and makes his way to his father’s side. 

“Come father we must get you home and settled.” 

Crowley takes his father’s arm and steers him up towards the carriages and they are soon on their way home from the happy occasion to the comforts of Hartfield. 

\-----------

Later that evening, his father having retired to bed after supper, Crowley sits by the fire. Indeed sitting as close to it as he can without the chance of ruining his coat with an errant spark. He is preparing himself for a good long sulk in his new state of loneliness when he is surprised by a visitor as well known to him as any friend. 

Mr. Aziraphale Knightly, brother to Michael’s husband, and chief scolder of Crowley and his mischievous ways, announces himself by arriving in the sitting room.

“As an old friend I must ask, who cried the most at the wedding?” He walks right in and sits on the ottoman next to Crowley’s chair. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley smiles and reaches out his hands to greet him. Aziraphale clasps their hands together as he settles in. 

“Too close to the fire as ever I see. One day you’ll ruin a perfectly good coat and be sorry for it.” Aziraphale teases. 

Crowley rolls his eyes and nudges Aziraphale with his foot so he can put his feet up on the footstool. 

“Yes, yes, we all know I’m cold blooded,” he carps back. “The wedding was beautiful. Dawn was quite a lovely bride.” His face falls as he continues, “I know it’s selfish of me but I will miss her so much.” He looks back again to the fire. 

“She’s only half a mile away. You can still visit as much as you like,” Aziraphale admonishes Crowley fondly. He pats Crowley’s foot. “You’ll have to get the carriage to continue your mischief with her instead of just sprawling out and sighing all over the morning room. Though now she’ll have her own home to keep. She won’t put up with your meddling half so well.” 

“I did think today of the trout Michael and I put in her bed that time,” Crowley grins. “Remember? I thought she would scream the house down!” He smiles while Aziraphale laughs. 

“You were such troublemakers, still are frankly.” Aziraphale says with an arched eyebrow. “I know Michael keeps Raphael on his toes. Though the new baby has been taking up more of their time as of late.” He pats Crowley’s foot again. 

“The new Mrs. Weston will have a much easier time having only one person to please rather than two. Especially when one of you is such a troublesome creature.” 

Crowley rolls his eyes at the familiar reproach. He sits up with a frustrated sigh.

“Aziraphale, I know you love to find fault in me, but I must admit I will very much miss my friend.” Having said so, his gloomy expression returns. 

“Well we wouldn’t think so well of you if you didn’t miss her, Crowley. I do think it was a very good match and she will be so happy with Mr. Weston” Aziraphale counters with a satisfied smile. It’s enough to make Crowley brighten.

“Well one good thing is that I made the match myself,” he proclaims. “People said that Mr. Weston would never marry again and if I hadn’t talked him up and invited him around, he and Dawn might never have discovered one another.” 

Now Aziraphale rolls his eyes. His views on the subject of Crowley’s meddling are well known. 

“Oh Crowley you just made a lucky guess. You might just as well have invited Mr. Elton around to see if you had the same result.” He puts a bit of a derisive emphasis on Mr. Elton’s name though he’d deny it if anyone mentioned it. Gabriel Elton was a bit too full of himself, in Aziraphale’s opinion, always making himself the center of attention with his violet eyes and impeccable robes. He set Aziraphale’s teeth on edge. 

“Well today he looked as if he would love nothing better than to have the same wedding service done for him,” Crowley said decidedly, ignoring Aziraphale’s tone. “I will have to think about who I can throw in his path to arrange some sparks to fly.” Crowley grins to himself at the thought. 

“Poor Mr. Elton if he’s your next ‘victim’ Crowley,” said Aziraphale with a huff. “Your mischief will certainly drive him to distraction.” 

As Aziraphale starts down a well worn chiding path, Crowley can’t help but smile as he stands and heads for the sideboard. 

“Oh for pity's sake, Aziraphale, I’m quite certain I have a lovely whisky here. Let’s have a glass and toast to the health of the bride and groom.” 

Aziraphale stops mid-rant with an “Oh of course!” and stands to join him. 

Crowley hands him a glass and then raises his own. 

“To the Westons!” he says brightly. 

Aziraphale raises his glass as well, “To the Westons!” 

\--------


End file.
